


Like the back of your hand

by metalkiralylany



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Drinking, Friendship, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Canon, Victor Nikiforov-centric, Viktor has issues and Chris is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 05:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11201400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalkiralylany/pseuds/metalkiralylany
Summary: That’s just it, that’s who Viktor is. He keeps taking and taking, and it’s never enough, not for a second.or:A glimpse into the early years of Viktor and Chris's friendship.





	Like the back of your hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nemamka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemamka/gifts).
  * Translation into Français available: [Like the back of your hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975130) by [Ruize_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruize_chan/pseuds/Ruize_chan)



> impulsively dedicated to a dear friend for being amazing

_Sometimes the things we want the most are right in front of us, we just can't see it. Or at least that’s what people usually say when they have nothing else to offer,_ Viktor thinks, as he knocks back his third shot of alcohol at the rather crowded hotel bar. Well, for one, he has absolutely no idea what he wants, he smiles to himself, and it's bitter like the drinks he keeps downing despite the disappointing quality. He should know better than to ask for vodka here, it’s just not the same.

He stares at his hand resting on the wooden bar, clenching and unclenching his fingers. It's an unconscious motion, grabbing nothing but empty air in his desperation to find what it is that he's missing. He won. He keeps winning but it's not enough, never enough. The top of the podium is a lonely place; it puts life into perspective, it lets him see a side of life unknown to most people, and the view can be beautiful from up there. But lately it's been nothing but colorless clouds turning everything grey around him, shadows appearing deeper and highlights losing brightness; the whole picture is just slightly _off._ It'd be better if this was the calm before the storm, a breath held under heavy skies as thunder echoes in the distance with the promise of change. But nothing ever changes here, or at least that's what it feels like, he trains, he sleeps, he trains again until he's ready to collapse or it's time to step into the spotlight. He skates. He collects his reward. Then he trains, he sleeps. There's nothing memorable in his dreams.

Viktor signals to the bartender for another round. Maybe it should be his last one. Maybe this one should have been. Maybe he should quit. Drinking or skating, whichever. He shrugs to himself.

He's about to grab the glass put in front of him as he sees someone slide onto the stool next to him at the corner of his vision. He doesn't need to turn to know who it is. Chris doesn't greet him, he just orders a martini in heavily accented English and then settles into comfortable silence, but Viktor can feel his eyes on him, that knowing stare that pries deep into his soul and that’s so distinctly _Chris._

Viktor isn’t surprised that Chris came to find him, they’ve gone out together on multiple occasions to celebrate their latest achievements, nights like that often ending with them stumbling back to the hotel clinging to each other and giggling like little children after one too many glasses of whatever they were having at the time; and he’s the only other skater Viktor truly considers a friend. He’s on good terms with most of the seniors, of course, but they haven’t quite managed to get over that awkward starstruck phase being around him like Chris had. Being friends with Chris has always been easy; there was just something about his personality that made him go right past formalities and allowed Viktor to relax around him immediately like he couldn’t do with anyone else.

He isn’t in the mood to celebrate today, though, but he doesn’t need to say that. He doesn’t need to say anything and that’s both a blessing and a curse, because Viktor is good at playing roles, and Chris happens to be excellent at seeing through each and every one of them.

“You’re disappointed.” When Chris finally speaks, it’s not a question. Viktor just shrugs.

“Well, you know me,” he says, turning slightly towards the other man with a smile on his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes. And there it is; that exact look he knew he’d see.

Chris chuckles, his warm green eyes twinkling as he raises his glass at Viktor. “You’re not exactly hard to read once one learns how to ignore the act.”

“Are you calling me a simple man?” Viktor asks, one eyebrow raised, before he grabs his own drink and downs it in one go. “And yet you’re the only one who seems to have me all figured out.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” Chris sighs, slowly twirling the olives in his drink. Viktor frowns. “Your coach isn’t an idiot, you know.”

He’s probably right. But Yakov is… Well, he’s _Yakov._ Viktor loves him as a second father (possibly even more so), but that’s probably exactly why he’s also prone to ignoring what he says, and Yakov is now used to being ignored, his lectures becoming shorter and less intense with every season. There’s also the fact that while Viktor is an exceptional skater, Yakov has been coaching for a long time, and he won’t be the last student he leads to glory. Viktor has seen his juniors, the raw talent and the fierce look of determination some of them wear as they rush past him on the ice. Sometimes he wonders which one of them will be the first to surpass him. Viktor is still not _old_ at 21, not even by figure skating standards, but it’s a sport where the future isn’t something you can plan on; one mistake is enough to end a skater’s career regardless of age. He’s still Yakov’s number one priority, but who knows how long for?

He must have stayed silent for longer than he meant to, because he feels Chris nudging his shoulder with his own.

“I may be pretty fluent in _Nikiforov,_ but I’m not a mind reader, you know. So spill it!”

Viktor sighs. It’s not as if he doesn’t _want_ to talk to Chris, but how could he put this into words, these things that keep swirling around as shapeless shadows in his thoughts, dissolving before he could attach them to syllables. He stares at his hands again, and suddenly the loud chatter of the hotel guests around them is too much, too annoying, even through the light buzz of the alcohol that coats his senses like a thin blanket. He licks his lips, too dry.

“Can we get out of here?”

Chris nods with a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“I have a bottle of _real_ vodka in my room.”

Viktor always knew he had a good taste in friends.

 

 

They make small talk on their way up in the elevator and it’s easy, there’s not a moment of awkwardness between them as they walk down the long corridor, almost to the end, Viktor laughing lightly at a story Chris tells about his coach while he fishes out his keycard and unlocks the door.

They end up sitting at the floor cross-legged, half facing each other, passing a bottle back and forth. They keep up the easy conversation for a while, as the pleasant effects of the alcohol slowly settle in, and Chris makes no comments on the dropped topic, he doesn’t push Viktor for which he’s grateful.

As time goes, he gets more loose-lipped and the conversation turns back to skating, and suddenly he just keeps talking in half-formed sentences that run into each other with no end or beginning, all his thoughts spilling out in a jumbled mess, thoughts he didn’t realize he even had; and Chris doesn’t stop him, he just sits there and listens, his eyes never leaving Viktor’s face while he goes on and on, rambling about the bitterness of victory and the loneliness that comes with it.

It’s halfway through a sentence when his alcohol-fogged mind registers something, a subtle emotion that he couldn’t possibly name reflecting from the warm green irises, and it stops him mid-thought, his emotions overflowing like the bottle that falls out of his grip, spilling it’s content on the carpet as he almost _falls_ forwards, his fingers sliding into thick blond hair as he captures the other man’s lips in a kiss. It’s entirely ungraceful, their foreheads knocking together as Viktor loses his balance for a second, but then there are warm, steady hands on his sides and after a moment of shock Chris responds to the kiss, his mouth opening up slightly to grant access to Viktor’s tongue licking across his lower lip.

Viktor can barely catch his breath, his movements frantic, impatient and needy, searching for _something, anything_ he can hold onto, reaching for what he’s lost and desperately hoping that he could find it in someone else.

It’s Chris that breaks away from the kiss, and suddenly Viktor is truly, deeply ashamed. What does he think he’s doing, what kind of person rubs his success in the very person’s face whom he keeps beating? He knows that Chris never resented him for it, but that doesn’t give him the right to disregard his feelings by complaining about something he often keeps his friend from experiencing and then proceed to drag him into his personal mess. _God, what else does he want to take from him?_

That’s just it, that’s who Viktor is. He keeps taking and taking, and it’s never enough, not for a second. Yakov is right to call him selfish.

He can’t quite look Chris in the eye as he begins to apologize. There’s a moment of silence, forcing him to look up.

Christophe’s face is unreadable, but he doesn’t look angry.

“I’m sorry. I messed up.”

Chris lets out a humorless chuckle.

“Well, I can’t tell you that I’ve never thought about this, and it wasn’t a _bad_ kiss…” he pauses, smirking at the light blush creeping up on Viktor’s cheeks. “But it’s not what you want.”

It’s not a question.

“No,” Viktor agrees anyway.

“Good,” Chris nods with a sigh, “because I value our friendship more than to sacrifice it for a one-night stand, no matter how exceptional it would be.”

He proceeds to stand up and walks into the tiny bathroom, leaving Viktor alone with his thoughts and regrets. He returns a minute later with two glasses of water, handing one to Viktor as his gaze darts over to the vodka spilled on the carpet. He shakes his head with a sad smile.

Viktor suddenly feels awkward for still sitting on the floor, but he isn’t quite sure if he’s ready to stand up. He has to crane his neck to squint up at Christophe, his blond head framed by the light coming from the ceiling like some kind of halo. _Maybe, he really is a saint_ , Viktor thinks. Chris looks down at him wordlessly.

“Chris, I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

And there it is again, that knowing smile, only now laced with a thin layer of sadness, and Viktor wishes nothing more than to be able to chase it away, but he has caused enough damage already.

Reality slowly catches up with him, making him realize that he should probably get going, even though he isn’t quite ready to face Yakov tonight. He wills his legs to work as he attempts to stand up, only to stumble backwards.

“Wow, not so fast,” Chris laughs as he catches Viktor’s arm before he falls back on the floor, his touch as casual as always, only letting go once he made sure Viktor is able to stand on his own.

They stay like that for a second, holding each other’s gaze.

“Are we okay?” Viktor can’t help but ask hesitantly. He isn’t sure how he’d manage without their friendship but he’ll respect whatever boundaries Chris wants to set.

“We are okay,” Chris reassures him, then rolls his eyes in a dramatic fashion. “And yes, you’re absolutely welcome to crash here if you don’t want your coach to see you in this sorry state.”

Relief floods Viktor, and the grin they share is easy. He isn’t sure what he’s done in life to deserve a friend like Chris but he’s not about to question it.

“You’re truly the best,” he hums.

“I know,” Chris winks at him with a smile.

 

 

Viktor is nowhere near close to having his life all figured out. He still isn’t quite sure about what he wants, but maybe, just maybe this is what he _needs_.

**Author's Note:**

> This is... a mess. The idea of their friendship wouldn't leave me alone, a quick one-shot doesn't really do it justice but this is all I have right now.


End file.
